


Home isn't a safe house

by Moeta



Series: Moeta's fictober [7]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Beauregard Lionett Has Issues, Beauregard Lionett is a Mess, Beauregard Lionett's Backstory, Beauregard Lionett-centric, Emotionally Repressed, Fictober, Fictober 2019, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 23:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20956439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moeta/pseuds/Moeta
Summary: Growing up for Beau was tough, living in a rich wine family wasn't all it was mad out to be.With alcohol readily availible not to you but your parents doesn't pose a great childhoodBeauregard has to grow up in some tough conditions getting constantly hurt in the process





	Home isn't a safe house

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!  
Day 7: "No, that's final"  
A bit behind the schedule of hitting on the same days I know!  
This one demanded a bit much, resonating a bit with my own backstory if you could say that.  
It was both a bit good and unpleasant to write if I have to be honest.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

Beau woke up, songbirds playing a happy tune right outside her window. Even though it was a bit annoying to be woken up, Beauregard still couldn’t become actually mad, no she just stayed her usual calm and serene self.

She got dressed, opting out of the girly dresses and in to the more practical wear she had. She had to do homework, so she did staying in her room until it was well past noon. At that point she opened her door and looked into the adjacent living room, just seeing her mother’s foot, she swiftly walked away to get breakfast, hoping she wouldn’t be spotted by anyone on the way there.

Of course she wasn’t so lucky, her dad was sitting at the dinner table watching her as she got some left over breakfast and made her way to the dinner table, eating in silence as efficiently as she could. She gave her father a few glances as he worked on what was probably some wine trade deal. As soon as she was done, she handed her dishes to a dishwasher. Not too thrilled at handing out labour she could do very well herself, but she didn’t feel comfortable in the presence of her father.

On her way back to her room her mom spotted her too, sitting in her sofa in the small living room, “how’s it going with your studies Beauregard, not too hard I hope?”, she said, picking up her glass of wine from the sofa table.

“It’s fine, mom.”, Beau deadpanned,

“Okay then, hey don’t you believe it’s about time you got new clothes? I’ll happily help and pay sweetie!”

“it’s fine, mom”, Beau left, retreating before a conversation could really begin, getting a bit annoyed at her mom suggesting to  _ pay _ when they both knew it would be using dad’s money.

Closing her bedroom door behind her, Beau took a deep breath before sitting down on her bed, and picking up whatever book was nearby. Beau was highly trained in this by now, closing the whole world out, especially the not fun parts.

Some while later, her dad knocked on her door, “yeah?”, she said automatically. He opened the door, wearing his fine outdoor jacket and boots.

“I’m going to walk the hounds. You know it isn’t healthy to stay in here all-day doing nothing”, he said looking down at her on the bed.

“yet, I am fine”, she looked up at him with annoyance and well-hidden hurt at getting spoken down to be her father. With that he closed the door with an eye roll and a sigh that only made it worse. Beauregard flipped the bird angrily after him, saying “ _ fuck youuu _ ”, under her breath.

She was going to show him, she began doing push ups, pull ups, anything healthy she could do. She wasn’t going to do as he said and she was still going to be better for it, a goal that was easy to get absorbed into forgetting the previous unpleasant thoughts and feelings.

Time flies when you’re staying safe within your own world, quickly turning afternoon to evening, time for dinner, her mom called her.

“Coming!”, Beau yelled back, getting out of bed and taking a deep breath before opening her door and walking towards the dining room.

The dinner table was quiet as they ate their meals. Beau’s dad spotted some candles still lit in the living room and simply went to blow them out. “Of course”, Her mom said under her breath. She took a big sip from her second or third glass of wine today, while giving him a look as he returned. Beau visibly cringed, at what she knew what would ensue. “Of course  _ I _ forgot! I simply can’t do anything right can I?”, she said immediately as he returned, Beau dug her thumb into her hand and ate quietly as well as efficiently.

“Joanne please, I merely put the light out, not because you did it, it might as well have been myself”, he tried to explain but was obviously bothered by it, trying not to show it. Beau’s mother just shut everything he was saying out halfway through.

“Oh yes, here I am again, stirring up trouble”, Joanne said in a self deprecating tone, Beau just kept her head down, trying to focus on the food and the slight, usual pain in her right hand from her thumb.

Conversation quickly died down after that, but not before her mom said sorry for Beau having to experiencing that. This Beau hated when they did, saying they were sorry that she had to experience their fights, always making it sound like it was the other person’s fault, her parent’s relationship just felt so wrong, but as far as Beauregard knew it was standard.

After that Beau swiftly finished her dinner and gave her dishes to their dishwasher before retreating to her room. As the door closed behind her she took a deep breath again, safe from the turmoil. Now those two would either stay in seperate rooms or if Beau was unlucky both go to the living room and try to be entertained only leading to a fight that would resonate throughout the whole house, no matter how deep in your book you are.

  
  


Staying safe at home hadn’t ever been an option, it was always a task, not physically safe but mentally and emotionally so. That was one of the first and most important things she had learned after the one critical night, where her father had had enough of her rebellious, masculine and unresponsive daughter.

“I’m moving out”, Beau said nonchalantly keeping her eyes on her food, “I’m moving out and going out to see the world, I begin packing my bags tonight”. She had been planning to do so for months but finally had the gut to actually say it.

There was a few pangs of silence before her mother immediately praised the idea, only to the annoyance of Beau. Her praise never felt real it felt like a service and she did that service at every little trivial thing making it almost fake, especially when Beau had learned that she usually wasn’t ever sober, that was a wake-up call. Beau didn’t know if she’d ever gotten real praise from someone sober and that was a scary thought.

“So, you believe you’re going on a trip?”, Thoreau said, looking dead at her, “I can clarify that you won’t just throw your life long hard work on some fling of an idea you’ve just had”.

“But-”,

“No, and that’s final”, he thought for a minute before making his choice, “you know what, yes pack your bags because you are going somewhere”, he looked a bit anxious if not nervous at saying all this, “you are going to be spending some time with the monks of the Cobalt soul”.

“Dad, you can’t just-”,

“I just did”, he said.

_ Now _ Beau’s mother got involved, “Thoreau Lionett, this is no way to treat your daughter”, she gave a smile as if siding with me immediately gives her the moral high ground, making her win the argument, which everyone but her seemed to know that it didn’t

“Beauregard I expect you ready to go tomorrow at noon”, he simply said leaving the table, Beau didn’t answer, she just kept looking at her now empty plate.

Staying with the monks, didn’t only teach Beau of their ways of fighting or all their knowledge and fondness of books, one thing she learned was how people actually were, they had feelings, they didn’t just bottle it all up an important lesson. 

She was quickly given weekly therapy as they found out that Beauregard had been very messed up by her childhood. Expertise was needed to sort out her mental mess and teach her how it was supposed to be. Healthy body healthy mind and vice versa, they stood by that.

Beauregard began being  _ taught _ what her feelings were. 

One feeling she found easily was the anger, the anger she kept down every dinner as she stayed quiet during their fights. Anger that had once been twisted into a sad silence of denial, looking into plates at dinner.

Happiness was a feeling that she had lost complete touch with, she couldn’t really identify anymore. It, together with all other feelings, had been denied, kept down, twisted into something different. She experienced it, she couldn’t deny that, but sometimes it was wrong either just sad and happy or extremely hyper happy that both just felt wrong the second she’d think about it

Sadness, wasn’t exactly something she knew how felt, she only knew the pain it caused in her chest, like her chest was getting so cold it would implode.

Fear, It was something she actually experienced a lot especially when thinking back to her childhood and coming up blank. She was told how she was afraid and she could only nod because she didn’t actually know, she didn’t remember past her 10th birthday at all.

Beauregard learned she was damaged, while some benefits had been gained like her fondness for studying and it’s prowess at keeping the rest of the world and feelings at bay. She learned how scars can be painfully visible but just so usual they aren’t noticed.

Beauregard was on the road to recovery now, it was long but it was finite.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading all the way through  
Have a great day!


End file.
